


All Things Considered

by DalishGrey



Series: The Redacted Files [14]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Best Friends, Eventual Smut, F/M, Feelings, House Party, Humour, Mass Effect 3: Citadel, Mutual Pining, NSFW, Nerves, Party, Revelations, fixing Bioware's crappy scene, fixit fic, relationships, secret crushes, some thing's need rectifying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 08:16:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6603523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DalishGrey/pseuds/DalishGrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She liked him.<br/>She 'like' liked him.<br/>Shepard groaned softly, letting her body relax into the metal framing of the banister. Her hair hid her face in a mass of damp waves, the hint of a shower still lingering on her aching form. The tall hunk of gentleman and muscle had charmed his way straight into her heart...and rumour had it, it went both ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Things Considered

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, the James romance scene in the Citadel dlc....was bad....seriously bad *shame on you Bioware*  
> So this will be my attempt at rectifying their screw up :3 (I still love you all though!)  
> (It's a tad rough atm)
> 
> Feedback is welcome! :) I hope you enjoy
> 
> (there will be nsfw)

Sleep. That was what she wanted. To close her eyes and drift off into utterly satisfying, unhindered sleep. But for now, a glass of ice and brandy would do to soothe her rising nerves. 

 _'What the hell possessed you to throw a  party?'_  

She wasn't a social-butterfly, she liked books, cups of tea and walks in the open air...though she wasn't impartial to the occasional night of weird blue drinks and mildly heavy bass.  

 _'Wow_ _Shep_ _...such a rebel.'_ She scoffed, it _did_ more or less summarize the unusual woman. She was a quick hand in a fight and a quick study with books, she possessed an aptitude for various things and an insatiable love of tea.  Though tonight she settled for a brandy, the cold of the ice was welcome as it brushed against her lips, the burn of the golden liquid in the back of her throat brought warmth and only one other thing possessed such a pleasant contrast. 

Lieutenant James Vega. 

A tall, bulk of a man, all bronze skin, muscle and tattoos...and one of the sweetest men she'd ever met. He went from being her guard, her _Warden_ of sorts, to becoming her closest friend and unadmitted crush. She felt _ridiculous_. He was younger than her by a few short years, her subordinate and the only person who knew that she could actually 'dance for shit', as he so aptly put it.  It was a small comfort that he didn't treat her like anyone special, or seem to care that she was older or his CO, the way they both saw it, was that she had been dead for two years...so _technically_  she was still 29...technically. Not to mention the fact that when they met, she had no rank, no military affiliation, she was free to do what or _whom_ ever she pleased, but did she? Hell no on the latter. They had spent days playing video games, fight simulators (because of her excessively itchy trigger-finger) and on some days they had just...talked. He was adamant that they should remain professional, that they should share as little as they could about themselves. But one day, when they had been exhausted beyond rational belief, she fell asleep on him, all internal barriers lowered as her head rested gently on his softly rising chest, the poetry book in her grasp slowly falling from her fingers. Despite the relentless threats to her life, everything seemed so...simple, content. 

Now here she was, alone, preparing for a party, day dreaming about one of her best friends and nearly dropping her brandy glass. 

She gasped sharply as it began to slip through her fingers and, albeit reluctantly, thanked Cerberus for her heightened reflexes when she caught it.  

 _'You're in over your head woman...'_ She chastised, rolling her eyes at her own clumsiness. 

Shepard leaned against the railing, drink securely in hand as she stared out of the unnecessarily large window. Cars flew past in fleeting blurs of blue and red, tinted by amber shadow. Even in the quiet everything felt so hectic, people in a constant flurry of haste and impatience.    
   
_"_ Hmph, no rest for the wicked eh?" she mused, lifting the frosted glass to her quirked lips. The golden liquid was smooth and crisp on her palate, faintly burning her throat in the way she liked.  

A waft of aftershave and cologne filled her nostrils and she remembered that she was wearing one of _his_ shirts. The grey fabric hung loosely on her smaller form, hiding her N7 boxers but not her lack of trousers. She didn't know how she ended up wearing it, he must have left it laying around and she simply...picked it up after her shower. Without thinking, she took a deep breath, committing the smell to memory. 

 _'Yeah_ _Shep_ _, not creepy at all...'_  

She _liked_ him. 

She _like_ liked him. 

Shepard groaned softly, letting her body relax into the metal framing of the banister. Her hair hid her face in a mass of damp waves, the hint of a shower still lingering on her aching form. The tall hunk of gentleman and muscle had charmed his way straight into her heart...and rumour had it, it went both ways.  

 _'Just rumours.'_  

A solid beep rung out in the sophisticated _cave_ that was her new apartment. The door slid open and a familiar face appeared, bronze skin glowing in the pale light, taut muscle flexing with every movement. Light and shadow flickered across his features, highlighting every dip, every scar. 

"Hey Lola! You miss me?" He asked with a cheeky wink, his lips pulled into his tell-tale smirk. 

She kept her face hidden behind the curtain of wet curls that was her hair, not eager for him to see her melt at the sight of his smile.  

_'More than I care to admit...'_


End file.
